


red, like a heartbeat

by sheithpocalypse (ViperSeven)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Escort Keith, Escort Service, First Meetings, I Don't Even Know How To Begin Tagging This, I did Adam kinda dirty in this fic..... sorry Adam I promise I don't really hate you, M/M, Matt is the greatest friend in the world, Meet-Cute, Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Porngst, Praise Kink, Shiro (Voltron) Has Issues, Shiro has a praise kink the size of the goddamn moon, Shiro's birthday, Soulmates, Switching, This is a PWP that grew 10k and a rollercoaster of feelings I'm so sorry, and some emotional baggage, but Keith will treat him just right, i CAN'T BELIEVE I ALMOST FORGOT THAT TAG, the blindfold deserves a tag of its own tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18290969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViperSeven/pseuds/sheithpocalypse
Summary: "I'm shaking," Shiro admits."Let me help, then. Untie me," Keith demands, and turns around so Shiro can undo the ribbon wrapped around his wrists. Shiro does, and Keith's hands instantly find his and squeeze. "You're shaking," he agrees.Shiro lets out a nervous laugh. "Yeah...""Good kind of nerves, or still scared?""Both," Shiro says, and tugs Keith forward.





	red, like a heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a twitter thread for Shiro's birthday - yes, it's only a month late aksdjgfshk.
> 
> I'm posting it here due to popular demand (ilu guys ;^;), but please keep in mind I barely edited it beyond properly formatting it!
> 
> [Find this fic on twitter!](https://twitter.com/sheithpocalypse/status/1109945870668173313).

Matt drops Shiro off at a fancy hotel on the night of the 27th with a keycard and a room number for all explanation. 

"Have fun," he says with a wink, and Shiro's instantly wary. "Happy birthday, bud."

And with that and a pat to Shiro's back, he's gone.

Matt is already a force to be reckoned with at all times. 

On special occasions, such as Christmas, or, as is the case, birthdays, he's downright terrifying. Shiro's had enough experience with his antics by now to know that he should absolutely fear the consequences of Matt's ideas.

It's not that Shiro isn't just as big an idiot, but he's more a bad puns and dorky humor kind of idiot. 

Matt is the crazy, reckless friend with all the wild, questionable ideas and a best man complex the size of the goddamn moon, and since Shiro’s break-up with Adam, his wingman tendencies have gotten completely out of control.

As demonstrated by the man Shiro finds kneeling on the floor in the middle of his room.

The guy perks up when he hears the door, sits up a bit more straight, and it's the motion that draws Shiro's attention.

For a long second, Shiro just gapes at him, his brain not knowing how to process the sight before him, barely registering the door closing behind him.

Then the guy smirks, small and playful, and things... _click_.

"Oh god," Shiro breathes out before he can help himself. The smirk grows.

"Is that a good 'oh god' or a bad one?" the guy teases.

Shiro's cheeks instantly heat up.

The guy is... he's the prettiest man Shiro's ever seen. Wild dark hair, slightly longer at the back. Well-toned muscles despite his lithe frame. Soft, almost delicate features, a sharp contrast to the firm curve of his throat. Legs a mile long.

He's wearing nothing but the tiniest pair of lace panties Shiro's ever seen, with a ribbon topped off with a big bow tying his wrists to his back, and a satin blindfold covering his eyes.

"I'm–I don't..." Shiro sputters. "Sorry, I... think I have the wrong room, I–"

It makes the guy chuckle softly, and Shiro has to physically keep himself from whining at the beautiful sound.

"You're exactly where you're supposed to be, doll," he says. "Matt showed me a video of you, I recognize your voice."

Shiro is going to murder Matt and then crawl under a rock and never come out again.

"Oh god," he repeats, scrubbing his hand over his face, mortified.

The kid's smile widens.

"Happy birthday, Shiro. My name's Keith... and I believe I'm your birthday gift."

The kid's–Keith's–smile is devastating, pulls a sound from Shiro's throat, high-pitched and slightly panicked. He takes an involuntary step back, like putting some distance between them could somehow make Keith stop being like a vision straight out of Shiro's wildest dreams.

"I'm gonna kill Matt..." he says without even thinking, and then quickly adds, "I mean, no offense! I just... You're–you're gorgeous, but I don't–"

Keith laughs again, and it makes Shiro's mouth go dry.

"None taken" he says, amused. "You sound nervous. First time with an escort?"

"I... Y–yeah."

"It's fine, I promise I'll take good care of you," Keith says, and his smile is softer now, reassuring. "We won't do anything you don't want to do, you got nothing to worry about."

Shiro swallows around the lump in his throat. The sound echoes like a shot in the room.

"I don't... I'm not sure I can do this," he says. It sounds weak even to his own ears.

"Look, I know it's none of my business, but Matt mentioned you went through a tough break-up a few months ago... he said you needed to get out of your head for a bit, to blow off some steam... and I'm kinda good at that, you know?" Keith cocks his head to the side a bit and smirks. Shiro can't stop looking at his lips. "Nothing wrong with having some good, uncomplicated fun, right? Let me help you shake off some tension, okay?"

"Of course there's nothing wrong with–I've just never... but I didn't mean to imply–"

Keith laughs, cuts his rambling off. "Don't worry, you didn't," he assures him. "I know you're nervous, I can practically _hear_ you blushing."

"Sorry–"

"It's okay," Keith says, amused, but gentle. "I'll help you relax, I promise."

He shifts slightly on his knees then, unthinkingly perhaps, just trying to get comfortable... but the movement spreads his legs some more, and it seems like an invitation. Shiro's eyes are inevitably drawn to his navel, to the barely concealed outline of his dick, to the inside of his thighs.

He inhales sharply, and takes an involuntary step forward. 

"I... I don't know what to do..." he admits.

Keith smiles warmly at him. 

"How about you help me up for now? Not to rush you into anything, but the floor is kinda hard, and I've been here for a while..."

"Oh god!" Shiro breathes, and he does walk towards Keith now, embarrassment momentarily forgotten in favor of helping Keith to his feet. "I'm sorry, hang on, let me–"

He kneels down next to Keith, rests his hand on Keith's arm to help him stand–

And his world bursts into color.

It starts where his hand is wrapped around Keith's biceps, sudden and bright, like someone had just spilled paint into the world… and it spreads fast from there, until Shiro's whole field of vision turns an overwhelming variety of shades and hues.

Keith raises to his feet in a quick, fluid motion, finds his footing before Shiro can even realize what's happening, and then doesn’t quite trip when Shiro recoils, but he does frown, thrown off by the suddenness of it and the shocked gasp that falls from Shiro's lips.

"Shiro...? Is everything alri–"

"Y–yeah" he chokes out, dizzy as his eyes and brain cells try to process all the new information. "it's fine, just. Gimme a minute..."

Keith's frown doesn't lessen, but he gives a quick nod.

Shiro's knees find the edge of the bed and he sits, breathes heavily as he looks around, takes everything in. There's just _so much color_. Shiro couldn't have imagined there'd be so many different ones, that the world would be so beautiful like this.

Then his eyes fall on Keith again, standing just a few inches away – hair still dark, but a shade warmer than Shiro'd previously thought, skin slightly more tanned than Shiro's. There's a hint of color on his lips that's just maddening, and god, he really _is_ stunning.

He was already stunning a minute ago, but now he's just–

Shiro inhales sharply through parted lips, feels the revelation like a punch to his gut.

He's his _soulmate_.

He's his soulmate and he's so damn gorgeous it takes Shiro's brain a full minute to process that, drunk as he is on the vibrancy of the world around him, on the effortless perfection of man in front of him.

His hands twitch with the need to touch him, suddenly feeling the way gravity seems to pull him forward, to pull him towards Keith, and he makes a noise like he's been hurt.

"Shiro?" Keith calls, makes a move like he wants to reach for him, but his hands are still tied at his back.

"I'm here. Sorry, I was just... sorry." He doesn't know how to finish that sentence, how to explain. Keith still has the blindfold on.

"Am I not your type?" Keith asks, smiles a bit self-deprecatingly. The words startle a laugh out of Shiro, distracting him from the way his mind is still swimming.

"I... didn't even think i had a type until just now," he says.

It's too corny, too much. but it's the truth, and the words are out of Shiro's mouth before he can stop them. Keith chuckles, pleased, and steps forward, follows Shiro's voice.

"Wow," he teases, coming to stand right in front of Shiro. "So much for being nervous..."

"I'm shaking," Shiro admits.

"Let me help, then. Untie me," Keith demands, and turns around so Shiro can undo the ribbon wrapped around his wrists. Shiro does, and Keith's hands instantly find his and squeeze. "You're shaking," he agrees.

Shiro lets out a nervous laugh. "Yeah..."

"Good kind of nerves, or still scared?"

"Both," Shiro says, and tugs Keith forward.

Keith climbs into his lap without hesitation, lets go of Shiro's hands to wrap arms loosely around his shoulders. Shiro's skin tingles everywhere Keith touches, even through his shirt.

"Jesus, you're even bigger in person," Keith says appreciatively, getting comfortable as he straddles him. "I fucking owe Matt big time."

Shiro's hands fall to Keith's waist of their own accord, and he tries not to think about how much _he_ owes Matt, about how nicely Keith smells, how well he fits against him.

"I think that should be my line..." he says, and his stomach backflips when Keith smiles. Up close like this, it's devastating.

"Yeah? Liking your birthday gift so far?"

The words are playful, but there's no heat to them just yet – true to his word, Keith is making sure Shiro's relaxed and comfortable. Not rushing him into anything, but sweet-talking his way past Shiro's walls, flirting, slowly loosening him up.

Keith's fingers play idly with the short hairs at the back of Shiro's head, and Shiro sighs.

"Yeah..." he says, and then, breathless, "you're gorgeous."

Keith's smile turns soft.

Then his hand reaches for the blindfold.

Dread settles low in Shiro's stomach. He thinks of Adam, of how much he'd despised the notion of soulmates. Of how much he'd hated the thought of having the choice taken from him.

He thinks of the millions of people who feel just like Adam did, who refuse to believe that some mysterious force within the universe might somehow know what's best for them.

Shiro doesn't know a thing about Keith, besides his line of work and the fact that he's friends with Matt.

He doesn't know if Keith's ever wanted this. Doesn't know if he's ever felt as lonely as Shiro, and found comfort too in the knowledge that he wasn't completely alone in the world. That somewhere there was someone whose soul sang in tune with his own, someone who was just _right_ for him, waiting to be found.

He thinks of Adam's anger back then, on the day when it all started to fall apart, and his hand moves on instinct, wraps around Keith's wrist, halting his movements.

"Wait–" he says. "Can you... can you leave it on?"

Keith quirks an eyebrow, but he seems to find this more amusing than anything. "You realize I mostly wore it for theatrical purposes, right? No use hiding your face from me now, I know what you look like already..."

"I know, that's not–I don't care about that, just... please..."

"Still shy, huh?" Keith sighs dramatically, but lowers his hand, and Shiro feels like he can breathe again. "I can't believe you're the hottest dude I've ever been with and I can't look at you. Just my luck."

He says it around a smirk, though, and Shiro knows they're okay.

He laughs, rueful. "Sorry"

"Mmhmm. Can I touch you, at least?" Keith asks, fingers ghosting over Shiro's jaw. It sends a shiver down his spine. 

"Please."

Keith is gentle as he maps Shiro's face, as he skims his fingertips over Shiro's brows, his cheekbones, the scar across the bridge of his nose.

"Does this hurt?" he asks, his words soft. When Shiro says no, he leans in to press a kiss to it.

Shiro's breath hitches, and his own hands dig into Keith's thighs, but Keith just continues his exploration, runs his thumb across Shiro's jaw, and then down the line of his throat, past the hem of his shirt.

He tugs at the fabric, a silent question, and when Shiro hums in agreement, Keith slowly pulls the shirt over his head. His hands come to rest over Shiro's chest, and Shiro's skin burns at the contact, nerve endings buzzing wherever Keith touches.

"The camera doesn't do you justice," Keith says. "Bet you're cuter in person, too."

Shiro heats up, weak for the praise. He briefly wonders if Matt filled Keith in on his kinks too, or if the boy's just that good at this. 

"Keith..."

"Feeling more relaxed yet, big guy?" Keith questions, shifting forward just slightly, not enough for their chests to brush together, but enough that Shiro feels the warmth radiating from him.

"I... yeah," Shiro whispers.

"Can I kiss you, then?"

"Yeah..."

Shiro's not sure what it is. The knowledge that this is his soulmate, maybe. His whole body reacting to it, to _him_ , not caring about the fact that they don't even know each other, just painfully aware of all the ways in which Keith is supposed to be just _right_ for him.

Or maybe Matt is right, and it's really been too long since Adam.

Or maybe... maybe it's just Keith.

Keith, being great at this. Being perfect at this. The build-up. The question, soft-spoken inches away from Shiro's lips. The small smile on his lips. The hand on Shiro's throat.

He's not sure what it is, but when Keith brings their lips together, it feels like the world is exploding with color all over again, like he's weightless and he'd float away if he didn't have Keith's weight holding him down.

Keith is impossibly warm against him, and Shiro hears himself make a sound, broken and blissful as he presses back against those soft lips. He parts his mouth on instinct, inviting more, craving, and feels his whole body respond when Keith licks at his bottom lip, into his mouth.

It's soft still, in a way. Not particularly frenzied or messy, but it's deep and searing and Keith moves against him in just the right way, and it _has_ been too long. long enough that just the kiss and the heat and the little sounds Keith makes feel overwhelming.

Shiro's pulse quickens inevitably, and then skips a beat altogether when Keith pulls back just to breathe out his name, to let lips travel from the corner of Shiro's mouth, down to the underside of his jaw, before diving back in and meeting Shiro's tongue.

The hand on Shiro's throat tightens his grip just so, and Shiro can feel the electricity it sparks down to his bones. He's giddy with the taste of Keith, with his scent. Catches himself thinking about burying his face in Keith's hair and breathing him in, and the realization that he could, that he _can_ , pulls a wounded moan from his throat.

If some part of him wasn't sure about this still, the decision has been made for him.

He keeps his hands firmly on Keith's waist, not daring to let them wander.

"Oh god," Shiro whispers against Keith's lips when they finally part, heat already sitting low in his belly.

Keith laughs. "Good 'oh god', or bad one?" he echoes his earlier words. It makes Shiro laugh breathily too.

"Might be too soon to tell... but definitely promising," he says.

Keith grins, nips playfully at Shiro's chin. "Yeah? You gonna let me show you what I can do, then?"

Shiro just closes his eyes for a second, breathes him in. "I still don't know what I'm doing," he says, but it's not an argument. "I… didn't think I was this desperate."

"You don't seem desperate. You seem lonely," Keith argues, and lets his hands trail down his body, splays them on Shiro's abdomen. "Just trust me with this, okay?"

Shiro, half hard already just from Keith's kisses and words and barely-there touches, does.

"Okay..."

This time, when Keith leans in, the kiss is hungry. Heated.

Keith makes a little noise in the back of his throat as he meets Shiro's mouth, tilts his head to change the angle and kisses him with intent, curling into Shiro's chest like he wants to get closer still, to melt into him.

The line of his body pressed hard against him sends Shiro's mind reeling. Keith's lithe frame fits against his chest like a puzzle piece, like it was just made to be there, and the thought alone makes him see white.

He'd never known he had a thing for this. For the light weight in his lap, for the way Shiro's hands are big enough to practically wrap around Keith's waist completely. 

Keith's hand reaches for the button of Shiro's pants, undoing it, and then he's pushing himself off Shiro's lap, tugging his pants down as he goes. Shiro lifts his hips a bit to help, already struggling to catch his breath. In less than a minute, Shiro’s shoes and socks and pants are off, but Keith doesn't climb back into his lap. Keith drops to his knees, right between Shiro's thighs, and Shiro stops breathing altogether.

"K–Keith–"

"How do you want me, doll?" Keith asks, tone unfairly even, misleadingly innocent. He speaks the words with his lips inches away from the outline of Shiro's rapidly filling cock, and fuck, there's no way he actually expects Shiro to be able to answer.

Shiro lets out a small, wounded sound from the pit of his stomach, and when Keith chuckles in response, he can feel the hot puffs of air against his skin. His cock twitches.

"Wanna try that again?" Keith taunts him, running his hands up and down Shiro's thighs.

_Everywhere_ , Shiro wants to say. _I want you everywhere. In every possible way_.

"Keith..." he tries again. "I... I don't–"

Keith, thankfully, takes mercy on him. "You smell nice," he says, nuzzling into Shiro's hard-on. Shiro whines, curses under his breath. "Can I blow you?"

" _Fuck_ ," he groans. "Yeah... Keith–"

Keith hums in appreciation and dives right in, drags his nails down Shiro's thighs and licks a flat line along his cock over the fabric of his underwear, mouths at the width of it. Shiro closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, doesn't even try to stop the moans rising to his lips. 

"Fuck, Shiro, " Keith says, a bit breathless, and licks his lips. "You're fucking huge."

"I'm not–FUCK, _Keith!_ " he cuts himself off, fisting at the bed sheets when Keith groans appreciatively and sucks hard at the head of his cock.

"Take these off," Keith commands, hooking his fingers over the brim of Shiro's briefs, not waiting until Shiro lifts his hips off the bed to start tugging them down.

The offending garment gets tossed across the room, and Shiro outright screams as Keith swallows him down in one go.

Shiro's big.

Not unreasonably so, only slightly disproportionate to the rest of him... but the rest of him also happens to be rather huge, so Shiro _is_ big. Big and thick and nicely curved, and it shouldn't be physically possible for someone like Keith to do _that_ with his mouth, but Keith sucks the head between his lips and then just keeps going, slowly but surely, taking Shiro into his mouth inch by inch, until his nose is pressed into Shiro's navel and Shiro can feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of Keith's throat.

It takes everything Shiro is not to come on the spot.

It also takes everything he is to remain completely still, his hips twitching with the need to thrust into Keith's mouth.

"Jesus fuck, Keith," he growls, throat tight.

Keith hums then, and Shiro feels the vibrations down to his bones, can't help the way he jerks a bit at the wave of desire that crackles like lightning down his spine.

The motion makes Keith gag around him.

"Fuck, shit. Keith, sorry I–"

But Keith doesn't seem bothered by it, moans loudly when he pulls away and licks his lips like he wants to chase Shiro's taste.

"God, you're fucking perfect," he says, voice slightly hoarse in a way that goes straight to Shiro's gut, knowing exactly what caused it.

Keith gives the tip of his cock a small, kitten lick, and dives in again, the walls of his throat spasming around Shiro, making him see white. 

"Keith, _fuck_. S–stop, I can't–"

He reaches out involuntarily, catches himself right before he can bury his hand in Keith's hair.

Keith senses the movement, and lets go of him to say, "You can move, by the way.Ddon't gotta worry about it being too much or anything, I can take it."

Shiro sucks in a sharp breath. "Keith–"

"I'd ask you to fuck my mouth, but I have plans for you..." he goes on, licking a flat line along the underside of Shiro's cock like he can't help himself. "Maybe later, though. You taste too fucking good."

Shiro groans at the promise, whines at the praise.

"Keith..." he repeats, and it comes out high-pitched and needy and pathetic.

"Tell me when you're close," Keith says, and that's all the warning Shiro gets before Keith takes him back into his mouth and starts bobbing his head, sucking Shiro off in earnest now.

Shiro forgets words, forgets how to breathe. All there is is Keith and Keith's velvety heat.  
Keith's pleased little moans. Keith's lips stretched around him, a deeper red than they were just minutes ago, and being able to tell the difference in color works Shiro up as much as the thrum of Keith's groans around his cock.

Keith moves one of his hands from where they kept rubbing soothingly at Shiro's thighs, wraps it around the base of his cock to add more friction, and Shiro can't keep still anymore, buries his fingers into Keith's hair like he'd been dying to do and chases the pleasure with sharp, little thrusts of his hips.

Keith makes an approving sound and picks up the pace, pulling back almost all the way before diving right in again, and he's too fucking good at this. Too good and too warm and too perfect, and Shiro can't last.

"K–Keith," he gasps, tugs at Keith's hair a bit. "Keith, stop. _Stop._ "

With one last suckle at the head, Keith lets Shiro's cock fall from his mouth. He licks his lips and lets out a little moan, satisfied.

"Good boy," he says. The words go straight to Shiro's head. Keith rises to his feet then, stands between Shiro's legs and makes him tilt his chin up, and presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Still game?" he asks, running his thumb across Shiro's jaw.

His smile is soft again. Undemanding, even when he's obviously aroused too, chest rising and falling rapidly, the outline of his erection clearly visible through the lace.

He asks for Shiro's sake, not pushing, and it makes Shiro weak in the knees.

"Yeah... I want you.” He's wanted him from the moment he stepped into the room.

Keith's smile grows. He finds Shiro's hands and brings them to his own hips, and Shiro gets with the program, tugs his panties down and then takes in the sight of Keith, fully naked in front of him.

He's the prettiest thing Shiro's ever seen, from his sinful lips down to the scars decorating his skin. Each and every one of them is beautiful and perfect, and Shiro wants to know them all, to map them and learn the stories behind them and kiss the raised flesh to his heart's content.

He wonders if Keith would mind his own. He hadn't seemed to, when he'd notice the one on his face, hadn't been fazed by the prosthetic at all—and him expecting it because he'd seen Matt's videos was one thing, but him not even flinching at the first contact with cold metal was something else entirely, something Shiro isn't used to—, but there's dozens more covering Shiro's skin. 

Not a pretty sight, but maybe... maybe Keith won't mind.

"So what's it gonna be?" Keith asks, pulling him from his thoughts. "You can touch me however you want..."

Shiro heaves in a breath, and does just that. Brings his hands back to Keith's hips and pulls him closer.

Shiro sits back on the bed and drags Keith along as he goes, until they’re both lying down and Keith’s body is pressed flush against him, solid and warm and moving in just the right ways as they make out.

“What do you like?” he manages to get out between kisses.

Keith huffs out a laugh. “This ain’t about me, doll,” he says, sitting up and straddling Shiro’s lap, running a hand down Shiro’s chest until he finds a nipple and rubs a thumb over it, eliciting a moan from Shiro. “You got me until tomorrow, we can do anything you want.”

The words make Shiro hot all over, but he shakes his head, frantic. “I can’t think with you looking like that,” he confesses. “You said to trust you with this, I'm trusting you. I want to know what you like.”

For a brief second, Keith stills, and Shiro worries he’s overstepped.

Then Keith lets out a low, guttural moan and slams their mouths back together, licks straight along Shiro's tongue and runs fingers through Shiro's hair and there's a sharp edge to it, an urgency, that emboldens Shiro and makes him greedy.

He rakes his hands over Keith's body, down his back. Kneads his ass and draws him closer, until they're back chest to chest, thighs tangling together.

"You're a goddamn dream," Keith says, breathless, moving to bite at Shiro's collarbone and wrapping a hand around his cock, stroking Shiro back into full hardness. "Such a gentleman. I want... fuck, I want to ride your beautiful cock," he says, grips hard at the base as he speaks to punctuate his words.

Shiro growls, a low, slightly feral thing that sounds alien to his own ears. " _Yes_. Yes, fuck–"

"There's lube and condoms in the bedside drawer," Keith says, gestures at the blindfold. "It's gonna take me ages to find them."

Shiro mumbles an agreement and reaches for the drawer, finds what they need quickly and presses both things into Keith's hand. He's impatient, but he doesn't care if it shows. He can feel the line of Keith's cock pressing against his inner thigh, can feel the wetness where the tip is, revels in the knowledge that, work or not, Keith seems to want this just as badly as he does.

Keith doesn't waste time uncapping the lube and pouring a generous amount over his fingers and Shiro's cock. Then he finds Shiro's mouth again, arching his back to press into Shiro's chest as he kisses him, resting his weight on his knees and reaching behind himself.

It takes Shiro a full minute to realize what Keith's doing, with the way he's kissing him. With how he seems to be all around him, saturating all of Shiro's senses. His taste on his tongue, his warmth seeping into Shiro's bones, his scent filling his nostrils. 

It takes him a minute, but then Shiro feels Keith's hand moving, and makes a wet sound of protest.

"Let me help," he says before Keith can ask what's up.

Keith smiles against his lips. "It's okay, doll, I came prepared," he tells him. "I just need a moment, you're bigger than I thought–"

"I want to do it" Shiro insists, and maybe it sounds a bit petulant to his own ears, but it still makes Keith gasp and curse under his breath.

"Fuck–okay. _Christ_ , Shiro..."

The rest of the sentence dies on his lips as Shiro slides his middle finger down the crease of Keith's ass, slips it in alongside two of Keith's fingers, feeling the way Keith slides them in and out, stretching himself open, and _fuck_ , it's the hottest thing Shiro remembers doing, both of them fingering Keith open together…

Keith mewls, loud and unabashed, and Shiro wants to keep pulling those sounds from him forever, adds a second finger himself and crooks them inside Keith, searching…

He knows he's found the right spot when Keith's whole body jerks forward and a scream tears from him. Shiro bites his lips and rubs his fingertips over it again and again, until Keith is writhing and swearing and his knees momentarily give out.

"Shiro, fuck... fuck."

His voice doesn't break, but he's panting and aroused and Shiro's heady with it. With the way his skin glistens, with how his cock is flushed a beautiful, deep shade of red.

Shiro lets his fingers slip out of Keith when Keith rises to his knees, reaches for his cock instead, but Keith bats his hand away, says, "Keep your hands above your head."

Shiro makes a sound of protest, but keeps his wrists pinned to the pillow as told.

Then Keith is gripping at Shiro's cock, rolling a condom on and lining himself up, and the world around them ceases to exist. Nothing's real but Keith, breathing heavily, looking almost ethereal hovering above Shiro, an impossible dream.

Keith lowers himself onto Shiro's cock, painstakingly slow, but steadily sinking himself on it inch by inch, letting Shiro feel the way it stretches him almost to his limit. He hisses beautifully at the sensation, but doesn't pause to adjust, not until Shiro's buried to the hilt and struggling to breathe past the tightness in his throat.

Keith remains silent and completely still for a second, and then the fucking hottest, filthiest sound Shiro's ever head spills from his lips, obscenely loud, and Shiro can feel the way Keith's whole body vibrates with it.

"Oh _GOD_. Shiro–"

Shiro laughs breathily, desperately keeping from thrusting into Keith's perfect heat. "Good 'oh god', or bad one?" he teases.

Keith huffs out a laugh.

"Shut up," he says through gritted teeth. "Fuck, you're... Fuck. Don't move," he tells him, and he starts lifting himself off of Shiro's cock, pulls back almost all the way, until only the head remains inside of him, and then sinks back down, repeats the motion over and over.

He's perfect. He's tight and warm all over and keeps clenching around Shiro every few seconds, dragging his nails down Shiro's chest and staking his claim on him, threatening to make Shiro lose his goddamn mind with the need to push up into him.

Shiro's white-knuckled with the effort to keep his hands above his head. His thighs burn with the strain to remain still.

"Keith, Keith," he cries out, each word punched out of him by Keith impaling himself on his cock, but he still doesn't move.

"G-good boy," Keith groans, fully seated now and tipping his hips back and forth, knowing damn well just how hard he's making it for Shiro. "You're doing so well. Fuck," he adds, and Shiro feels dizzy with the praise, moans as his head drops back into the pillow.

"Keith, please. I need–aah, fuck, _K–Keith_."

"What do you need, doll?" Keith encourages him, and starts fucking himself on Shiro's cock faster, rising and falling on his knees. Up and down. Higher each time, harder as he sinks back down. 

Keith's hips move in long, rhythmic, waves now, back arching beautifully, muscles tightening and relaxing. His lips are slightly parted, his skin glistens with sweat. 

He's a siren song, and Shiro's spellbound. 

"I need to touch you," he begs. “Please, Keith–"

Keith groans, throws his head back after he grinds down particularly hard into Shiro’s lap, but he's unmerciful. 

"No touching," he says, grins devilishly when Shiro whines. "I don't get to look, you don't get to touch. You can move now, though."

And Shiro does. Thrusts up into him so hard it pulls a scream from Keith's mouth, the force of it pushing him forward and sending him reeling into Shiro's chest.

"Fuuuck," Keith groans into Shiro's neck, and he's instantly rolling his hips in time with Shiro's thrusts.

Shiro fucks into him in earnest, losing track of everything except Keith and Keith's weight and his own heart hammering in his chest, and every time he bottoms out feels like coming back home.

Keith splays his hands over Shiro's sides for purchase, each finger perfectly slotted between his ribs, face pinched with pleasure, and Shiro can almost see the way his eyes are all scrunched up under the blindfold. 

For a brief second, he contemplates asking Keith to take it off, toys with the possibility that Keith's world might light up with color, too, his soul in tune with Shiro's. He lets himself dream that this might be an even bond, that Keith might want it…

But then Keith's lips are on his, Keith's body is practically convulsing around Shiro, and Shiro can't think, feels his own movements become erratic and his balls draw up tight as heat curls low in his belly.

"K–Keith... Keith, I'm gonna come, I'm–"

"S'okay" Keith says, cupping his face, swiping his tongue over Shiro's bottom lip, then moving to suck at the skin over Shiro's pulse point. "Let go, baby. Come for me." 

And Shiro loses himself in that slick, tight grip, feels pleasure exploding through his bones as he tenses up, empties out inside Keith with his name on his lips and his weight atop him.

He slumps into the bed, boneless, and for a few moments everything's white-hot pleasure and Keith's gorgeous smile hovering inches above his face, close enough that Shiro'd only need to tip his head up a bit for a kiss.

Keith moves then, lifts himself off of him with a wet pop, and Shiro winces at the overstimulation.

"Sorry," Keith says, expert fingers peeling off the condom and discarding it quickly, and then he's curling into Shiro's chest again. He fumbles for one of Shiro's hands where they're still resting on the pillow above his head, lacing their fingers together, and Shiro takes it as his cue that he's allowed to move again, brings the free one down to rest on the small of Keith's back.

Keith smiles at him. "How ya feeling, pup?"

"Keith..." Shiro says, a bit dazedly, and then cuts himself off when he feels Keith's dick pressing into his navel. "You didn't come!" he protests, can't help the way it sounds like an accusation. "I would've helped–"

Keith laughs and shakes his head. "No, I told you not to move your hands, and you didn't. You were so good for me, babe, you did so well..."

And Shiro can't help but squirm a bit under Keith, isn't quite ready to examine the effect Keith's words have on his stomach, but he refuses to let Keith distract him.

"But you didn't–" he starts.

"It's fine, doll," Keith says, hooking a leg around Shiro's. "We can go at it again in a bit. 'Sides, this is for you. Gotta make sure you have a great birthday."

It's the second time he's said something like that.

Shiro won't have it.

He flips them over in a swift movement that makes Keith gasp beautifully, caught unprepared, and settles himself between Keith’s thighs.

"It's not my birthday yet," he grunts. "Technically, it's not for another year," and he leans in, closes his mouth over a pert nipple and shivers in delight when it makes Keith's breath hitch.

Keith lets out a breathless chuckle. "Can't believe I got this fucking lucky..."

Shiro doesn't answer, just hums and laps at his nipple as he skims fingers over Keith's belly, then further down, along the inviting trail of dark hair.

He moves to suck on the other nipple, tugs at it with his teeth just as he wraps his hand around Keith's half-hard cock, and Keith inhales sharply, arches into the touch and grips at Shiro's shoulders, encouraging. 

“H–harder," Keith moans. "You can bite down harder, don’t worry about leaving marks.”

And fuck, now that he's said it, it's all Shiro can think about. Peppering Keith's body with bruises and hickeys. Marking him up. Making color bloom on his skin and giving him something he can look at when he takes that blindfold off, a constellation of reds and blues and purples, all of them put there by Shiro's mouth, by his fingers.

He moves to bite at Keith's neck with a feral groan, sinks his teeth there, sucks hard and beckons the blood over, calls it to the surface. 

Keith's cock fills in his hand and Shiro pumps it faster, drawing those sweet, cracked moans from Keith.

"Fuck, Shiro," Keith gasps. "Fuck, your ex must've been one hell of an idiot..."

He says it unconsciously, the words out of his mouth before he can think them through, but it makes something twist in Shiro's chest, ugly and painful, even after all these months.

His next exhale comes out wet-sounding, labored.

It hurts still, because Adam _hadn't_ been an idiot.

It hurts because the idiot had been Shiro. Because Shiro’d seen the way Adam's eyes had gone wide when they'd walked into that coffee shop, when Adam had bumped into that other man and both their worlds had exploded with a million colors.

It hurts because Shiro should've been able to tell then and there that it was over between them, _had_ been able to tell, but Adam had said no, had been so angry when Shiro'd told him it was fine, that he understood... Adam had always hated the idea of soulmates, had refused, had said he loved Shiro, said this changed nothing. 

And Shiro, foolish and in love and struck with that deep-rooted fear of being alone, had believed him.

He wouldn't have minded Adam leaving.

He'd minded the false promises and the lies, being kept in the dark as Adam and his soulmate grew closer. 

He'd minded the cheating. And he'd seen all of it coming, and hadn't stopped it. Not until the pain had simply been too much to take.

"Shiro..." Keith whispers, pulling Shiro from his thoughts. He finds his hand, the metal one, and brings it to his mouth, kisses his knuckles, the heel, the inside of Shiro's wrist. It's oddly intimate, and it leaves Shiro a bit breathless, a bit greedy for this. For the release. For the chance to stop thinking. "Sorry, i didn't mean–"

"Fuck me," Shiro says.

Keith makes a sound like he's been punched. " _What?_ "

“I want you to fuck me," Shiro repeats. "Is that okay?" 

Keith lets out a long moan, digs the nails of his free hand into the meat of Shiro's shoulder. 

" _Fuck_. Fuck, yeah, that's–that's okay. Fuck," he says, and shoves Shiro off him, pushes him back into the bed and climbs atop him in an instant. "People don't usually–most people want a hole they can fuck, not... and god, a big guy like you, _christ_ , Shiro–" 

He bends down to kiss him and groans into Shiro's mouth. Sucks at Shiro's tongue and bites at his lower lip. Kisses him hungrily, heatedly, each press of lips bringing Shiro closer to his downfall. 

And Shiro, still an idiot, still foolish, is powerless to do anything but drink him in, but lean into each touch and meet each kiss and let himself believe.

It’s too damn easy to let himself get caught in the haze. Keith’s hands roam, and everywhere he touches, it sizzles. Fiery. Red-hot. 

Shiro’s never seen red before tonight, but he knows which things are supposed to be. A wildfire. Lust. The blood pumping through his veins. His heart hammering in his chest.

Keith is all of them.

Keith tastes just like red would. Scorching. Vibrant and unforgiving as he gradually takes over Shiro's senses, as he starts kissing a path down Shiro's neck and chest and stomach and navel, lower and lower, until his tongue is licking a flat line right over Shiro's hole and Shiro outright screams, completely consumed by the flames.

Everything goes blurry around the edges from there. Shiro's only vaguely aware of the way he keeps chanting _fuck_ and _please_ and Keith's name, of how he keeps grinding down into Keith's tongue and touch and how his cock begins to stir again.

Keith riles him up quickly, expertly. Eats him out like a man starving for it before finally reaching for the lube and slipping the first finger in, biting his lips and letting out low, self-satisfied growl when Shiro sobs in both frustration and relief at once.

"Shiro..." Keith breathes as he starts to work him open. "God, Shiro, you're so fucking perfect. The way you sound... fuck. Fuck."

"Keith–"

Keith manhandles him so he's lying slightly on his side then, straddles Shiro's thigh and slings the other one over his shoulder like it weighs nothing, continues opening him up like that, and fuck if that doesn't do a million things to Shiro's gut.

There's strength hidden under those long, thin limbs, in that tiny waist. Muscle like cords of steel under the skin, and the realization and the heat it sparks in him fuck up with Shiro's higher brain functions.

"Keith, o–oh _god_ ," he chokes out, the words turning into a downright obscene moan as Keith finds his prostate and curls fingers into it over and over.

"Fuck, yeah, just like that," Keith praises him. "That's it, babe. Fuck, you sound so fucking good. _God_ , Shiro, I wish I could see you..."

Shiro whines, but can't find words, just buries his face into the pillow to muffle the sounds Keith keeps pulling from him. Keith's up to three fingers now, keeps twisting them this way and that, making Shiro's whole body jolt with pleasure every few seconds, but it's not enough.

"Promise you'll let me see you, next time," Keith breathes.

Shiro's eyes fly open. 

_Next time._

Keith... Keith wants to do this again. To see him again.

Keith chuckles then, says, "Yeah, doll... If you wanna," and Shiro realizes he must've said the words out loud.

"Y–yeah... Keith, please–"

"I got you, big boy," Keith whispers, and withdraws his fingers. Shiro doesn't have time to mourn the loss of them before Keith's rolling on a condom and lining himself up.

From this angle, it's going to be merciless. 

Shiro knows, and can't stop the way his entire body practically vibrates with desire, with anticipation. With the profound, unspeakable need to be claimed by this man.

Then Keith starts easing forward, painstakingly, deliriously slow, his cockhead stretching Shiro's hole in a way that both burns _just right_ and leaves him aching for so much more, and the world claps over with thunder.

He can't touch Keith as much as he'd want in this position, but Keith makes up for it by keeping the hand not holding his thigh splayed gently over Shiro's stomach, by showering him with praise and calling his name again and again as he moves inside him.

He sounds slightly awed, and a lot breathless, and Shiro's heavy-lidded already, wants nothing more than to let his eyes flutter shut at the sheer pleasure, than to just cry into the pillow as Keith pulls back almost all the way and then plunges deep into him every time… but Keith is breathtaking, and Shiro can't tear his eyes away.

His cock hangs full and heavy between his legs now, but he doesn't even register it until Keith wraps his hand around it and starts thrusting faster into him, fucking his fist over Shiro's cock in time with the rolls of his hips. Shiro calls Keith's name, the only remotely coherent thing he can still say, and moans encouragingly when Keith thumbs at the head, at the precome already gathering there, spreading it to make the slide easier.

“Fuck, Shiro–” Keith growls, guttural and hungry as he grips at Shiro’s thigh almost with frantic desperation, pulling him impossibly closer, thrusting into him impossibly deeper, jerking Shiro off without finesse now.

He’s a wild thing, his nails digging into Shiro’s thigh, his nostrils flaring as he slams forward, frenzied, pulling choked out moans out of Shiro every time, and Shiro can already feel himself coming undone, can feel the second orgasm unmistakably coiling and growing inside him.

"K–Keith... Keith, I'm close, I'm–"

The sound Keith makes at that is feral. Downright animalistic.

"Not yet," he commands, and his tone is almost enough to tip Shiro over the edge, but it admits no discussion. He starts pumping Shiro's cock faster, and Shiro gasps, wet and wounded and desperate.

"Keith–"

" _Not yet_. Wait," Keith says, punctuates it by plunging forward and hitting Shiro's prostate right on, and Shiro screams, his whole body tightening around Keith, his hands fumbling for something he can grab onto.

He doesn't come.

"Keith... Keith please," he sobs. Pleads.

" _Fuck_ ," Keith grits out when Shiro helplessly clenches around him. In one sudden move he lets go of Shiro's thigh and makes him lie fully on his back, then throws both his legs over his shoulders and practically bends Shiro in half when he crushes their lips together.

Keith buries himself inside of him, fucks him like this now, and Shiro wants to scream, wants to beg for release, but Keith kisses him deep and burning and unforgiving, swallows every sound he punches out of Shiro, and Shiro's completely at his mercy.

It’s not long before Keith’s rhythm falters and he’s rocking into Shiro in sharp, aborted thrusts. 

"Shiro. Shiro," he breathes against Shiro's mouth, drags his teeth over the swell of his bottom lip as his hand squeezes harder at Shiro's cock while he jerks him off. Shiro whines.

"Keith, I can't..." he tries, breathing heavily now, every nerve ending on fire. "I can't, I'm so close, Keith, please–”

"Almost there, babe" Keith chokes out. His free hand finds Shiro's and he laces their fingers together. "Shit, Shiro, you're doing so well. You're so good for me, fuck."

"K–Keith..."

"Together, okay?" Keith says, pounding into him hard and fast, chasing his own release. "Wanna come together. Can you do that, pup? Come when I say?"

And _oh god_ , yeah. Yes, Shiro can. It should be too intimate, maybe, too much… but Keith is asking, Keith wants it, and it makes desire flow through Shiro's veins like molten gold.

"Yeah," he sobs, blinks away the tears in his eyes just so he can keep looking at Keith, hauntingly beautiful as he moves inside of him, atop him. "Keith–"

Keith moans approvingly and finds his lips again, and Shiro buries his free hand in his hair to pull him closer, grabs onto him like a lifeline.

Keith slams into him for a few more seconds, and then his hips stutter and he's groaning into the kiss.

" _Ahh, fuck_ –now, babe," he chokes out. "Come. _A–aah_ , Shiro... _Come_ –"

And even if Shiro weren't so on edge already, the way Keith looks as he tenses up, his loud, downright filthy groan and the way he moans Shiro's name as his own orgasm hits him, would've absolutely pushed him over the edge. 

Shiro lets his eyes flutter shut and screams as Keith pounds into him a few last times, as he fucks his fist over Shiro's cock, helping him ride it out. Feels the pleasure hit him like a lightning strike and wash over him, his whole body seizing up as he cries out Keith's name.

Then Keith collapses atop his chest, panting heavily, his warmth and his scent seeping into Shiro's bones, and Shiro floats away for a bit. He barely feels the exhaustion in his body, his chest heaving, his pulse hammering in his ears... barely registers Keith pulling out of him. There's just that euphoric, shivery, languorous feeling spreading through his body. Wobbly, liquid limbs and a pleasant lightheadedness.

Keith gathers strength somehow, lift himself off of him, and Shiro wants to protest, wants to pull him back in and wrap arms around him, keeping him in place, but his brain's still too fuzzy for words. 

He's only distantly aware of Keith discarding the condom, wiping his hand in the bed sheets... but he instantly snaps back into focus when Keith leans in to lick at the pearly streams of come drying on his stomach. 

Shiro can't help the sound that falls from his lips.

"Y–you don't have to do that!" he half-protests.

Keith chuckles. "I know. I want to," he says, and continues to lap at Shiro's skin, to press soft kisses over his belly, into the vee of his hips, down the inside of his thigh...

There's a scar there, a particularly angry one, but it doesn't deter Keith. If anything, it feels like he nuzzles into it and kisses it more intently. Shiro's throat goes a little tight. 

"Keith..." he beckons him over, voice barely above a whisper, and Keith complies, fits himself against Shiro's chest and makes a content, purring sound when Shiro hugs him closer.

"Hey doll," he says, cupping Shiro's face. "You doing good?"

Shiro's not sure he can even begin to answer that question, so he just hums, blissed out, and pulls him down for a kiss.

This time, it's slow. Subdued. Soft touches and lazy presses of lips, and they linger for a while doing just that, sharing kisses and breathing each other's air.

When they draw back after a bit, Shiro gently brushes dark strands of hair off Keith’s face and commits him to memory. The sharp angle of his jaw. The line of his throat. Those soft, sinful lips, spit-slick and kiss-swollen, working their magic on Shiro's skin, on his body. His teeth, fangs just a tad longer than they should be, adding to Keith's whole slightly wild look.

Shiro sighs, awestruck.

Keith grins, then, says "Happy birthday, Shiro," and he looks entirely too smug, too pleased with himself, for someone who feels this warm... this safe.

He's a wolf. Not in sheep's clothing, not quite. Not with his inviting body language, with that deadly smirk promising mischief, but he still looks misleadingly vulnerable, stretched atop Shiro weighing practically nothing, folding his arms over Shiro's chest and pillowing his head on them. Shiro isn't fooled, knows exactly what Keith can do with a quirk of his lips and a flick of his tongue, but he's ready to play the part of the pray, happy to be devoured by him a hundred times over.

"It's only the 28th," Shiro says absentmindedly, running his thumb across Keith's cheek, right below the blindfold. 

Not for the first time, he contemplates taking it off. 

He wants to see Keith's eyes, wants to gauge the emotions there. Keith might be his soulmate, but there's a chance Shiro won't be Keith's... and maybe that's the easier path, he thinks. Maybe then Keith won't push him aside, and Shiro can keep seeing him, keep drinking his fill of Keith, of whatever parts of himself Keith will share with him... at least until it hurts too much for Shiro's heart to take it anymore.

It's easier to think of that than to think of their bond being even, and Keith not wanting it.

It's less scary to think of that than of Keith somehow wanting it, too. Less unfathomable. Less overwhelming.

Shiro can't even entertain that possibility, too afraid of the heartbreak.

"Last day of February," Keith says, shrugs with one shoulder. "Close enough."

Shiro huffs out a laugh. "I usually celebrate on March 1st," he explains.

"I know." Keith smiles, slightly impish, and want flares anew in Shiro's stomach at the sight. "Matt said he wanted to give us enough time, s'why he brought you here a day early... He didn't want you being late to your own party."

"I'm still gonna kill him" Shiro says.

This time, it punches a real laugh out of Keith. Genuine and full-bodied. The kind that starts with a snort, and makes your whole body shake with it. Not exactly _sexy_ , but devastatingly beautiful, still. It steals Shiro's breath away.

"Please get it on video," Keith says, smiling brightly. "I want to see."

Shiro's no longer listening. He's still spellbound, still completely captivated by this man.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes out. Can't help it.

Keith's laugh dies on his lips and he freezes for a second, and then his smile turns soft, slightly rueful. 

"You know you don't have to woo me, right?" he says. Shiro could swear there's a hint of sadness in his voice. "I'm pretty much a done deal..."

"I'm not wooing you," Shiro says. He cups Keith's face with the prosthetic, the other hand pressed firmly into the small of his back, and Keith doesn't flinch at the touch of the hard metal, leans into it like a kitten asking for pets. "You _are_ gorgeous. Keith, you're so fucking beautiful."

"Oh..." Keith breathes, like he's somehow surprised by the words. "I... thank you." 

"I can't be the first one telling you this."

Keith licks his lips, almost shyly. "You're not, it's just... Compliments tend to die down a bit... after."

Oh.

That's... Shiro's not sure how to reply to that. He wants to be mad, wants to tell Keith that he deserves to be told just how damn perfect he is at all times, but all the words he can think of seem simultaneously rather vapid and too much, laying Shiro's emotions too bare.

Keith, surprisingly, chuckles. "Stop that," he says. 

"What?"

"I can hear you frowning. God, you’re too earnest… It’s dangerous," he says that last part almost like an afterthought, and Shiro's not sure what to make of it, not even sure if he was supposed to hear.

Before he can think about it too hard, Keith is lifting himself up on his elbows atop Shiro's chest and moving to kiss him again, slow and deep and searing. Shiro makes a small, broken noise, and parts his lips almost on instinct to welcome Keith into his mouth.

When they draw back, Keith is still smiling, and Shiro's still drunk on him.

"Keith..." he breathes out, dazedly. Keith's smile grows.

"I like the way you say my name," he says. His tone is soft. Tender. 

The words feel like a stab through Shiro's heart.

It's sobering. It's too freely given, too innocent. Doesn't feel like something Keith'd say because it's his job, not a compliment in the middle of sex, nor with that goal in mind...

It feels real, and the weight of it pulls a gasp out of Shiro and makes his heart rate spike.

It feels real, and it makes something twist in Shiro's chest, confessions threatening to crack his ribs open and come spilling out.

It makes him want to rip the blindfold off and pray that Keith's eyes will widen as his own world fills with color.

Instead, he says, "I need to go."

Keith laughs heartily at first, takes it as a joke. Misses the way Shiro’s eyes widen in panic at his words, scared of what something so simple, just Keith liking how he calls his name, does to his heart.

He’s only known this kid for a few hours, but there’s already too much at stake. Emotions too raw, too rapidly growing. Bubbling out of control inside Shiro’s chest every time Keith laughs or smiles or praises him. Shiro’s but a few kisses and soft-spoken words away from falling in too deep, past the point of being able to recover from this incredible man… He needs to leave before it’s too late for his heart to make it out of this in one piece.

It might already be.

“I think the Matticide can wait a couple more days,” Keith says. 

It makes it harder, because he’s stunning, and Shiro wants to always make him laugh like this. Wants to have this, this intimacy, this small body pressed into his… Wants the way Keith can both completely ruin him with a single touch and make him laugh like an idiot in the middle of sex. He thinks that even in a world in monochromes, he still would've wanted Keith this much.

Shiro can’t reply, just lets out a soft, broken sound. The smile on Keith’s lips falters.

"Oh," he says when Shiro doesn't speak for a while. "You... weren't joking."

He lifts himself off Shiro's chest, sits on the bed instead, and Shiro has to purse his lips to keep from making any sound of protest. He instantly misses the warmth.

Keith seems confused, thrown off. His shoulders are a bit hunched over.

"Did i do something wrong?"

Something inside Shiro splinters. "No!" Shiro says, sitting up too. He finds Keith's hand and squeezes. "Keith, no, you were–god Keith, you were great. You were _perfect_ , I just..."

"Is it... Is it because of what I said earlier? About your ex?"

"Keith–"

"I don't usually... I don't know why I said that, I'm normally better at this. At reading people," Keith goes on, a self-deprecating half-smile on his lips. "You seemed to be in pain there for a sec, but then you wanted to keep going, so... I thought we were okay."

"We were. We _are_ ," Shiro says, wrapping the metal hand around Keith's neck, hoping the touch is reassuring enough.

He doesn't have the clarity of mind to ponder what Keith's words might mean – Keith, slipping. Caught up in the moment too, perhaps, just like Shiro. Making a mistake, not being entirely professional. He can't think right now about whether some of that might've been Shiro's doing, Shiro's own effect on Keith.

He says, "It... it does hurt still, but. Keith, I think... I really needed this. I don't think I even realized how badly I needed it. I've been mourning a relationship that's been dead for months, and... this is the first time I've felt like I can heal. Like I _am_ healing..."

"Shiro..." Keith says, softly.

"I feel... cleansed. No, that's not quite right, I don't–"

"It's okay, I think I get what you mean," Keith tells him, his smile a bit surer now. He lifts a hand to Shiro's face and thumbs at his lower lip. "I'm glad I could help you."

Shiro kisses Keith's thumb and then draws him in, presses his lips against Keith's almost delicately, one last indulgence.

It's a soft brush of lips, but it's charged. Feels meaningful. Important.

It's feelings laid out in the open. His heart, exposed. Vulnerable. If he doesn't leave now, he knows he won't.

But staying... Staying might hurt too damn much.

"I have to go," he breathes, carding fingers through Keith's hair, memorizing the texture, the softness of it, hoping it imprints forever on his skin. If he can't see Keith again after this, he at least hopes he'll remember every single detail of him. "You did nothing wrong, I promise. I... I can't explain right now, but... it's important."

Keith lets out a long breath. Shiro can't quite read his expression.

"Okay..." Keith says. His voice is small, but it doesn't shake.

"I still want to see you again," Shiro tells him for good measure.

The corner of Keith's mouth quirks up at that. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Shiro breathes. "You were... god, Keith, you did things to me I didn't even... that I didn't know my body could–"

Keith's laugh saves him from having to finish that sentence. “I can hear you blushing" he says, and Shiro has to laugh too.

"Yeah... I don't think I've stopped since I first walked into the room," he tells him, pleased with Keith's reaction. "I'm... I'm gonna get dressed. I’ll leave you my card, okay?"

"You do know it's usually the other way around, right?" Keith teases him.

And Shiro does, of course, but he can't risk it.

If Keith sees color, and wants this, he'll call. If he doesn't see color, well. He's already mentioned wanting to meet Shiro again, so hopefully he'll call still. There's only one scenario in which Keith wouldn't call him... and if the worst happens, Keith's number constantly taunting him, daring him to make the call, is only bound to bring him yet more heartbreak.

He can't tell Keith this though, so he just makes a non-committal sound. Keith laughs softly, but doesn't push it, just stretches atop the bed, kittenlike and inviting, while Shiro finds his clothes.

"Am I allowed to look now, or do I have to stay like this forever?" Keith asks as Shiro slips into his pants.

Something clutches at Shiro's heart once again.

If he looked at Keith some more, if he kissed him again... he thinks he'd probably find the courage to take the blindfold off. To risk it.

He doesn't. He can't push Keith into it, knows what that's like already.

"Keep it on," Shiro says as he finishes dressing, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just–wait until after I'm gone, okay? Wait a few minutes. You'll... you'll understand."

Keith lets out a noise that sounds both amused and like a playful protest, says, "You shouldn't have the right to be so shy. Not with that pretty face of yours," and Shiro has to bite his lips to keep from making a sound.

Then, before he knows it, he's finished tying his shoelaces, and is ready to leave... Except he's not.

He's the opposite of ready, stays where he's seated at the edge of the bed, trying to think past the way his heartbeat pounds in his ears. He takes in the colors in the room, pained by the knowledge that once he walks out he'll find the world painted in a million more that weren't there before.

The room smells like Keith. At his back, he can hear Keith shift on the bed, can sense Keith crawling up to him and wrapping his arms around his body. He can feel Keith pressing himself against Shiro's back, hooking his chin over Shiro's shoulder. Kissing his neck, right below his ear.

He doesn't want to leave. He says as much.

"Then don't," Keith whispers. There's an emotion in his voice Shiro can't quite place.

Shiro licks his lips. "If I stay... I'm gonna end up saying too much."

Not quite a confession, but close. Way too close. Shiro holds his breath, tries to keep his hands from shaking. a second passes, then another one...

Then Keith says, "Oh..." and his arms around Shiro loosen their hold.

It feels like an answer.

Shiro blinks, doesn't let the wetness fall. He stands, startling Keith a bit, and moves for the door. 

"Shiro–" Keith calls his name, following him.

"I need to go," Shiro repeats. He's surprised his voice doesn't break. He adds, "I'm–my card is on the bedside drawer, okay? Just... you know. If you want to see me again. No expectations."

"Shiro..."

Shiro cups Keith's face then, tips his chin up and presses their foreheads together. "Thank you, Keith" he says, and means it. "You're the best birthday present I've ever had.”

Keith lets out a small, broken sound, leans forwards just slightly, but Shiro pulls back before Keith can close the space between them. He can't kiss him.

"Good night, Keith," he says, giving his shoulder one last squeeze before turning towards the door. Keith remains where he stands.

When the bedroom door closes behind him, the sound it makes pierces through Shiro's heart, vicious and brutal. It tastes like goodbye on his tongue.

He's not entirely sure how he makes it out of the hotel and to the street, mind out of it, dragging his feet on autopilot. It feels like he's moving in slow-motion, sharply aware of every step he takes. Of the unmissable, growing distance each of them puts between him and Keith.

He wants to be hopeful. Tries to reason with himself that if nothing else, statistically speaking, most bonds are even. That most people do dream about meeting their soulmates. One terrible past experience means nothing, in the grand scheme of things. And Adam, too, had caved in, in the end. Given up what he’d built with Shiro to be with his soulmate. With the person he’d never even wanted to meet in the first place.

It’s a powerful bond to try to ignore, he knows as much. Has lived through the consequences of someone attempting to do just that, and suffered for it.

He knows, but there's still this jittery feeling in his stomach, this weight in his chest he can't quite breathe past.

This feeling that Keith was simply too good to be true, like finding a wild animal in the woods. A panther, or a lion, perhaps – beautiful. Absolutely striking. All sleek movements and sharp teeth, luring you in and making you want to touch, even when you know it'll surely get you bitten. 

Shiro reached out, and it's his own fault he can now feel the sting of Keith's claws and fangs in his heart. It's his own fault he's hurt. 

He can't quite find it in him to regret it.

The first thing he really sees is the night sky.

He’s always loved space, even when it was just vast blackness littered with tiny specks of white. An almost intimidating infinite expanse that somehow felt grounding still, understanding. A constant, silent witness to Shiro's life.

It's the middle of the night, and he knows he won't find much color looking up, but the sight still pulls a wet sound from his throat. There's a depth to the sky that wasn't there before, hints of color he doesn't even know the names of yet swirling and mixing with the black. Deep, _deep_ blues and purples, he assumes. A slight hint of red around a nebula here and there. Like the bruises he left on Keith's skin, but decorated with a billion stars.

It's... he doesn't have words for it. He gasps for air, and when he blinks, he feels the tears fall.

He can't stay here. Not when he knows Keith's still close. Not when he can't trust himself to not turn around and come find him. It's been a couple minutes, and if Keith did indulge him, he's probably just taking the blindfold off now, and Shiro can't be here, needs to make it home so he can crumble and cry his way through the rollercoaster of emotions bubbling inside of him and worry himself sick waiting for Keith to call him.

He forces his feet to walk faster. They feel numb, like the rest of him, but do their best to obey. He turns around a corner and gets to a main street, still busy despite the late hour, raises his hand to hail a cab–

And suddenly there's a hand gripping almost painfully at his shoulder and shoving him back against the nearest wall.

It hurts when his back hits the building. His next inhale burns his throat. 

He doesn't register any of it.

There's a angry, almost slightly crazed pair of eyes boring into his, keeping him frozen in place, and Shiro wants to quail under the force of it, but he can't look away.

He thought Keith was beautiful, before. The sight was nothing compared to him now. Nothing compared to those eyes, impossibly deep and a shade Shiro can't even begin to describe, entire galaxies in them.

"Keith" he whispers, beyond awed, and it's a sob and a plea for mercy and life being breathed back into him all at once.

Keith can't speak yet, too out of breath, but his eyes widen further and he lets out a growl, jabs his forearm into Shiro's chest and slams him into the wall.

"Y-you..." he breathes out, but the sentence dies on his lips before it can go anywhere.

Shiro only really manages to take in all of him after a full minute of drowning in Keith's eyes. He's panting hard, face flushed red with how he's struggling to catch his breath, and he clearly dressed himself in a hurry. The red tank top he's wearing under his black leather jacket is inside-out, and backwards. His hair is completely dishevelled, and some of that was Shiro's own doing, but it wasn't nearly as bad when he left him. The button of his jeans is still undone, revealing a total lack of underwear underneath them, and Shiro almost lets out an involuntary, needy sound at the sight.

He's also barefooted.

He’s barefooted, and because Shiro’s a dense idiot, his first thought is Keith must surely be cold, being out in the street like that in late February.

Then his brain catches up, and Shiro’s pulse doubles. triples.

Keith’s here.

He’s _here_. Struggling to catch his breath. Standing in the middle of the street without shoes or even socks on. Ran all the way here like that, ran _after him_ , and suddenly Shiro feels just as out of breath as Keith is.

"Keith–" he tries to say again, voice small, but Keith glowers at him, a downright murderous look, and Shiro instantly snaps his mouth shut.

Keith's eyes are ocean-deep, fluid. A thunderstorm, and dark, troubled waters. They're a liquid night sky, but still they scorch.

"You..." he repeats. His gaze burns, too. All of him does. His tone, the arm holding Shiro up against the wall, each erratic, hot puff he breathes out as he tries to gather enough air for words. He's fire, and Shiro would happily burn down. "What _the fuck_ , Shiro," he finally manages.

His arm digs into Shiro's chest almost painfully, but Shiro's brain can't quite process anything beyond Keith calling out his name, beyond Keith standing so close Shiro can feel his breaths on his own skin.

Shiro lets out an involuntary sound, wet and needy, and it makes Keith's scowl deepen, pulls another low, angry growl from him.

"K–Keith," Shiro begins, persists this time despite Keith's glare. "Why are you–? I.. I don't know what you–"

"You can see them too, right?" Keith asks.

Shiro feels each word lodging itself inside his chest, piercing his heart. He doesn't need to ask what Keith's talking about.

Keith's seeing colors, and there's no blinking back the tears now. Something inside Shiro just snaps, all the built up tension suddenly being let loose, and when he raises his hand to bury his face in them, slumping back against the wall and crying in earnest, Keith removes his arm, steps back just enough to give Shiro space, stands there watching Shiro's breakdown without uttering a word.

Shiro should feel embarrassed, _does_ , but he can't help it, needs to finally let this all out before he's remotely able to start having this conversation. 

God, this is... _god_.

Keith's his soulmate... and he... he is Keith's.

It feels almost unreal, and Shiro's not sure he'll ever be able to breathe normally again, but breathing is overrated anyway, and he's also never felt like this, this whole, this warm... like belonging.

And Keith, Keith hasn't said he wants this yet... But he ran here, he chased after Shiro, could've just called him instead of rushing out of the hotel room only half-dressed, shoeless and out of breath, and Shiro's forever an idiot, forever foolish.

Shiro still hopes.

It’s a few minutes before he calms down enough for the world around him to start making sense again.

"S'why you wanted me to leave the blindfold on, right?" he hears Keith mumble then, and he doesn't sound nearly as angry this time. He sounds... dejected. "You didn't want me finding out."

It cuts through Shiro's tears, makes them stop instantly somehow, and Shiro's eyes snap back to him, but Keith doesn't meet his eyes, shuffles a bit awkwardly on his feet instead. 

"Keith... sorry, I... I couldn't... I didn't know how to–" Shiro manages, voice rough with crying.

Keith tsks, runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I get it, okay? It wasn't exactly ideal. But fuck, you could've been upfront about it..."

Shiro licks his lips. "Sorry..." he says, shakily. "I... I wasn't sure how to tell you..."

It makes Keith flinch, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Yeah, well..." Keith says, not quite as nonchalant as he's aiming for. "Sorry I'm not exactly soulmate material."

Oh.

The words make something heavy and cold wash over Shiro, fill his stomach with lead.

Keith does see colors.

But Keith... Keith doesn't want this. Not with him.

He thought it'd hurt more, the rejection. He mostly just feels numb all over, feels like this isn't quite real. Like he's having an out-of-body experience, just floating through another plane and watching his own heartbreak from the sidelines.

The pain will hit him fully, though, he's sure of it, and he better be home when it does, spare Keith the show. He's already been kind enough coming out here to tell him face-to-face.

"I'm sorry..." he whispers, voice thin.

It makes Keith finally look back at him. His face is pinched with disappointed anger, but his eyes, beautiful, breathtaking, seem pained.

"Sorry you ended up with a hooker for your soulmate, or that you didn't have the guts to turn me down to my face?" he snaps.

Shiro freezes.

"What?"

"Tough shit, huh?" Keith says, bitterly. "Fuck, Shiro, I'm not an idiot okay? I know it's not exactly what people dream of, I wouldn't have expected... but you could've told me, I wouldn't have tried to... I don't know, seduce you or some shit. I thought–"

"Keith–"

"You seemed like a nice guy and… and I thought you liked what we–" Keith goes on.

And Shiro's still not sure what either of them are talking about, but he's starting to realize they might not be on the same page here. He takes a step forward and wraps his hand around Keith's arm, cutting him off.

"Keith" he says, more firmly now. Keith tries to pull back, but Shiro just grips at him more tightly, forces him to look at him. "Keith, what are you saying?" he asks. He can still feel the wetness in his eyes, the drying tear tracks on his face. He doesn't want to hope... but.

Keith frowns, then, stops trying to shake himself loose of Shiro's hold. "I... what?"

"Keith, I think we're having two different conversations here," Shiro says, manages a small, tentative smile, and something in Keith's eyes shifts. Still confused, still pained... but slightly less so, mixed with a smidge of cautious hope, maybe.

Foolish, just like Shiro.

He adds, "I'm only apologizing for not telling you right away. I wasn't sure how to, and I was scared. And... I wanted to let you have a choice, too."

For a full minute, it feels like the world just stands completely still.

Then Shiro finds himself being slammed back against the wall again, and Keith is just this side of forceful as he snags his jaw between his thumb and forefinger and stares right into his eyes.

"What the fucking hell, Shiro?" he growls, "What kinda fucking choice is that? You… you just _left_ , what was I supposed to think? Christ."

None of it is really a question, and Shiro just flounders, thrown off by the sudden change in tone, and inappropriately distracted by how absolutely devastating Keith looks when he's angry.

"I... I told you to call me?" he says, voice coming out a bit squeaky. "I'm sorry I made you think–I couldn't care less about that, I just... I didn't even know if you wanted this... Or me..."

Keith lets go of his jaw then, scrubs his hand over his face and lets out a frustrated groan. He says, "I didn't know your voice because Matt showed me a video of you. Not for this, anyway."

Shiro's not sure he follows. "What do you–?”

Keith huffs out heatedly. "I've seen a bunch of videos of you in the past year. And pics. All over Matt's social media..." he pauses, sucks in a breath. "I was the one who told him to hire me as your birthday gift."

Shiro can't process the words right away. It's all too much. Too many emotions, to many changes in tone, each new thing Keith says making him feel dizzy. Giving him whiplash. Making his heart rattle almost violently inside his ribcage.

He opens his mouth to say something, he's not entirely sure what, but Keith shakes his head, keeps going.

"I've actually been trying to convince Matt to hook you up with me for months" he says, lets out a breathy, humorless laugh and scratches the back of his neck a bit anxiously. "You are... I mean, fuck, _look at you_. But it's not just that, it's... You always seemed so... so kind. Warm... But Matt said–he always said no. He said you're his best friend, said I'd break your heart. And that I'd hurt myself in the process, too."

"Keith..."

"I wasn't sure what he meant, you just. You seemed like you'd be a fun time, y'know..." he shrugs. "I guess he must've thought you really needed it, this last time, ‘cause he finally agreed... And then earlier, in the room, when you said you couldn't stay or you'd say too much... I finally understood." Keith turns to look at him again, then. He adds, "When you left, I realized Matt had been right all along. You–you wanted a reason to stay, and... I couldn't give it to you. And then you were gone, and… and it did hurt," Keith finishes.

There's the barest hint of a smile on his lips, small and self-deprecating, pained... but it's there still, and it beckons Shiro over unavoidably, tugs at his heartstrings until he's taking a step forward unthinkingly and raising his hand to cup Keith's neck, right below his jaw.

The sadness in Keith’s expression gives way to shock. Shiro feels Keith’s pulse thunder under his touch, and his own heart soars. 

"I'm sorry, Keith" he whispers. "For keeping this from you. I think... it scares me how badly I want you."

Keith stares at him for a full minute, gaze charged, lips slightly parted around a soundless gasp. Then he lets out a soft, breathy chuckle.

"Guess I was right, huh..." he says. Shiro shoots him a questioning look, and Keith's smile grows, turns into that playful, slightly impish thing that makes Shiro's heart rate quicken and his throat go tight. "You _are_ cuter in person," Keith finishes, topping the words off with smirk of his.

Shiro lets out a noise, always at this man's mercy, always downright weak for him. It makes Keith's grin sharper, surer, and Shiro's cosmically unprepared to keep having this conversation here.

"We should talk," he croaks, voice already hoarse. "Let's–let's go back to the hotel."

"No," Keith says, and Shiro's heart skips a beat, but Keith's still smiling fondly at him, still leaning into Shiro's touch. He says, "Take me to your place."

Shiro stops breathing. "You want to... W–what?" he fumbles for words.

"I never..." Keith starts, shuffles on his feet a bit before he goes on, "I never meet with clients at their place. Just hotel rooms..." he says, then quickly adds, "I mean, I've been to Matt's, but he's my friend. It doesn't really count..."

"Keith..." Shiro gasps, the implication of Keith's words clear, even to his dumb, thick brain.

This... This isn't work.

This is Keith _choosing_ , and the realization somehow paints the world around them a brighter shade still, makes Shiro's blood thrum in his veins and his heart hammer wildly in his chest. It seems to have been doing nothing but that for the entire night, permanently affected by Keith's touches, Keith's words. Keith's smile.

"That okay?" Keith asks, and he's not shy about it, no quite insecure, but just this side of it, a practically unnoticeable, barely-there hint of red tinting his cheeks to match with his lips.

He's stunning, and Shiro wants to scream that _yes_ , yes, of course it's okay. He feels giddy just thinking about Keith standing in the middle of his apartment, just picturing him flopping down atop his bed, relaxed and catlike and _home_.

Shiro’s an idiot, though, so instead, he says, "But... you're not wearing shoes."

Keith blinks once. Twice.

And then he's laughing, full-bodied and open and absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous, his eyes dancing with it, still the prettiest damn thing Shiro's ever seen. 

It's a bit wet, too, but in a good way. Relief. Tension spilling out and feelings being laid bare, with the certainty that the other person will be kind about them. 

Before Shiro knows what's going on Keith's stepping forward, and then there's the salty taste of tears on his lips, the taste of Keith on his tongue, warm and intoxicating. There's arms around his shoulders and that strong, solid body pressed against Shiro's chest. Something inside Shiro makes a sound, pleased and euphoric and hungry, and in an instant he's wrapping his arms tightly around Keith, returning Keith's kiss with nothing held back, basking in the way Keith's laughing right into his mouth, in the way he runs fingers through Shiro's hair with evident urgency and tugs him impossibly closer.

Keith pulls back after a moment, stops kissing him, but just enough so he can hold Shiro's jaw and make him tip his head, locking eyes with him. His gaze burns.

"Carry me, then," he says.

It's a challenge. Keith's smirk says as much.

It's a challenge, but also an invitation. A promise for things to come.

Keith doesn’t even flinch when Shiro picks him up without hesitation, lifts him off the ground in one fluid motion and holds him bridal style, and neither does Shiro miss the way his pupils blow wide at the motion, the black quickly swallowing up that stunning shade of his until there's only the thinnest ring of color left in them.

"You still won't have shoes in the morning," Shiro points out, just to play this game, too. To see if it'll get him a reaction.

Keith's eyes crinkle, and he leans in to suck Shiro's bottom lip between his teeth, bites it with a low, playful growl.

"It seems I won't be able to leave your place ‘til you buy me new ones, then," he says, speaking the words right against Shiro's lips and sending a shiver down Shiro’s spine. "You'll have to keep me entertained, pup."

And god, Keith may be teasing, but Shiro can't help but hope it's also a promise. Can’t help but wish there's deeper meaning to his words.

"Keith..." he says, intently this time, his arms hugging Keith closer to his chest of their own accord.

The rest of his question remains unspoken, but Keith's expressions softens nonetheless, understanding. He strokes his thumb across Shiro's jaw, leveling him with a fond look.

"Look, there's things we'll need to figure out, stuff we’ll have to talk about..." Keith tells him. His smile is warm. All of him is so, _so_ amazingly warm, and Shiro wants to chase this feeling forever. Keith presses their foreheads together before he goes on, "But I want this with you, Shiro. I'm game if you are."

And god, _yeah_. Yes, Shiro is.

He lets his eyes flutter shut for a second, draws in a long inhale. "Yes..." he breathes out.

When Keith leans in again, his next kiss does taste like a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out this [absolutely gorgeous fanart](https://twitter.com/spiftynifty/status/1107109850427936768) the amazing @[Spiftynifty](https://twitter.com/spiftynifty) drew for this fic ;^; I'm so in love, aaaaaaaa!!!
> 
> This one's also dedicated to @[HimekoHarem](https://twitter.com/himekoharem), who yelled "tell me more!" at me in just the right moment to get all my creative juices flowing... _(:3」∠)_
> 
> Also, there's a couple bits of background plot and trivia that didn't make it into the fic, so I'll be editing this to add that at some point soon (:


End file.
